


Memory and Making Up (and maybe Making Out)

by cobaltexpositor



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: "and they went to the coast! "oh my god they went to the coast", Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fix-It, Geralt apologies to Jaskier, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love confessions through shouting, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Roach is the hero of this story, Yennefer is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobaltexpositor/pseuds/cobaltexpositor
Summary: After the incident on the mountain after the dragon hunt (episode 6), Jaskier comes to Yennefer, heartbroken and desperate to be rid of all memory of Geralt of Rivia. Yennefer, feeling sorry for him, agrees to help. Somewhere else, Geralt is miserable for having lashed out at Jaskier and misses him. Though he can't admit it, not even to himself.Reviews:"This was utterly gorgeous!! Thank you for not only writing it so beautifully but allowing us all to read it ❤❤❤" -reader TheCoffeeBadger
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 428





	1. Help Wanted (Needed)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for over a month, and I could not have done it without the support of my lovely beta reader. Check them out on tumblr at the-bard-followed-the-witcher. I've only watched the show, so don't come for me about any inaccuracy in the lore. This is going to be full of feels, so prepare yourself! (I promise it has a good payout)

"Oh for fucks sake! No, get out!" Yennefer raised her hands as if to cast a spell.

"No no no no no, wait, wait!" Jaskier shot his hands into the air in surrender. "I'm alone! He's not here."

Yennefer raised an eyebrow and regarded the bard. It had only been a few months since he had seen him last, since the dragon hunt and... everything else. But those few months had seemingly taken its toll on Jaskier. He was paler, he had lost weight he had no business losing, and from the dark circles under his eyes Yennefer could tell he hadn't been sleeping. He was staring intently with a manic gaze she had never seen on his face. Slowly, she released her stance and lowered her hands.

Jaskier huffed a sigh of relief, and started pacing and rummaging through his pack.

"Jaskier, what do you want?"

"Look, I've tried everything short of a magical miracle, and you're the only mage I know-"

"Jaskier, what are you talking about?"

"-and I mean everything. All the usual tricks, women and drink, trying to write it out into a song-"

"Jaski-"

"I heard an old wives tale about sleeping with leeks under your pillow-"

"-and even at the behest of a healer in one town I was in I dunked my head into a freezing river at midnight, which I should have seen that one not working, but-"

"JASKIER" he looked up from his rummaging and stopped speaking, finally, at that. Yennefer unclenched her jaw and took a deep breath. The bard was clearly suffering, so she vowed to herself to at least attempt a little patience. "Jaskier, what on Earth are you talking about?"

Jaskier held out a jingling satchel that he finally was able to retrieve from his pack. Yennefer was shocked to find tears welling in his eyes.

"I need you to help me forget him," Jaskier whispered, biting his lip to hide its tremble.

"So that's why he's not here," Yennefer said as she crossed her arms. "You finally see reason and stop following him around like a lost puppy?"

She immediately regretted asking that as Jaskier fully burst into tears in front of her. He dropped the coin purse and covered his face with his hands, and slumped onto the stool next to him.  
Yennefer's eyes widened and she felt panicked. She had never seen him like this, she had no idea what to do, and the pang of guilt in her gut reminded her that it was her fault. She hovered awkwardly next to the bard, whose shoulders were shaking in earnest  
from his mournful sobs.

Yennefer looked around her latest dwelling for a clue of what to do. She settled on what she did best: magic. Within a few minutes she was kneeling in front of Jaskier with a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

"Jaskier, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to be callous. Well, I did, but I- here, drink this. It'll calm you down." She gently pushed the warm clay cup into his hands. Jaskier took the tea and drank it in between sniffles. Yennefer took the cup back from him when he was done and set it down on the table. She pulled up her own stool and sat in front of Jaskier.

"Feel better?"

"Not really, but I'm out of hysterics, if that's what you're asking." Jaskier scrubbed at his tear stained face with his sleeve. (Perhaps the bags under his eyes were not just from sleepless nights after all.) He looked up at Yennefer. "Thank you, for the tea. And apology accepted. I'm just not up for our usual... witty repertoire" they both gave half smiles to that.

Yennefer leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. She gave him a caring look, because despite herself, she did care. "Jaskier, what happened?"

Jaskier sniffled once more, regained some more of his composure. "On the mountain, after you... stormed off. Which you were well within your right to do, I might add. Anyway, after you left, Geralt was... Geralt."

Yennefer gave a short nod of her head at that. If there were two people on the planet who truly knew what the White Wolf was like, both of them were sitting in this room.

"I went to, I don't know, comfort him? Cheer him up? Honestly, I can't remember what I was going to say to him." Jaskier stared at the floor.

"He's snapped at me plenty of times. That's nothing new. And I get it, I'm-" he weakly gestured to himself. "Well, I'm me. But it's normally small stuff. I'm annoying, I'm not his friend, he doesn't need me, etcetera." Jaskier's voice became smaller as he continued.

Yennefer, only slightly less than wanting to never see Geralt again, wanted to hunt him down and punch him right in the face. She had never been privy to most of Geralt and Jaskier's relationship, but this was very telling. The poor thing sounds like he's listing off his character traits and not insults, she thought to herself.

"But this time, he was cruel," Jaskier said. Tears started flowing again despite Yennefer's calming tea. "He, blamed me for the Djinn and the Child Surprise. He-" Jaskier choked up, closing his eyes against this painful memory.

"He said if life could give him one blessing, it would be to take me off his hands."

Yennefer reached out and put a hand on Jaskier's knee, stroking gently with her thumb. She kept her face sympathetic and calm, but inside she was boiling. Magic had bound her to Geralt of Rivia, but nothing had kept the bard at the Witcher's side other than his dedication to him. And Geralt had tossed him to the wayside.

"I just- I haven't seen him since. And I can't sleep. I can't write music. I can usually get myself to perform to keep enough money, but-" he laughed bitterly.

"All your songs are about him," Yennefer finished for him. Jaskier nodded sadly. He looked down at the floor sheepishly.

"You were wrong."

Yennefer's eyebrow raised, this time in slight amusement. "Oh? About what?"

"I didn't decide to stop following him. I figured we would walk down the mountain separately, and then meet back up in town. He just needed time to cool off." Jaskier bit his lip again. "He never showed." He looked back up into Yennefer's eyes. "I think he's done with me for good this time, Yennefer. And I can't take it. I can't live like this, I can't live without-" Jaskier stopped himself, saying any more would admit too much and start the tears back up again, and he was already getting a headache from the dehydration.

Yennefer was wrong about a great deal of things, she realized. It wasn't just dedication that kept the bard coming back to Geralt all this time. It was love too. Whether he admitted it, or even realized, Jaskier was in love with the witcher. Yennefer saw a man in front of her with the greatest case of heartbreak she had ever seen.

"Please, Yennefer. There must be magic that can erase memories." He looked desperately at her. "Or maybe just emotions attached to those memories? I don't know, I've only heard rumors."  
Yennefer leaned back and sighed, thinking.

"It's complicated undertaking, not easily done. But there is a way to ease the pain you are feeling." Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "It will take me a while to prepare and get everything I need." She stood and brushed off her dress. Then she extended a hand to help the bard stand up, which he took.

"Stay in town. I'll call on you when I'm ready." Jaskier nodded, then bent down to grab his forgotten coin purse and handed it to Yennefer.

Yennefer held out her hand in a halt. "I take payment after the job is done," She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to leave the memory of why you're paying me."

Jaskier laughed at that, and Yennefer caught a glimpse of what she was used to seeing from him: happy, jovial, carefree.

Yennefer created a portal in the room for her to step through.

"Wait, where are you going?" Jaskier asked.

Yennefer looked back over her shoulder. "There are some key components I can only get from one place. Don't worry, I'll be back soon." She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Try and get some rest, Jaskier. You'll need your wits about you."

Jaskier nodded, clearly wanting to ask more questions, but he just gave the hand on his shoulder a squeeze and left the cottage.

Yennefer watched him leave, then turned back to her portal, took a deep, calming breath, and stepped through.

\-----

A few days later, Jaskier received a letter at the seedy inn he had holed up in. The letter certainly didn't fit into its surroundings, with it's fine parchment and purple wax seal. Jaskier gave the parchment a curious sniff and gave a small chuckle when he smelled the lilac perfume scenting the letter. Definitely from Yennefer.

Opening the letter, it simply read in beautifully inked script

"Everything is set."

Jaskier's heart skipped a beat. He'd had time these past few nights to think about what he had asked of Yennefer. Now that erasing his memory was actually a possibility, he'd been conflicted as to whether to actually go through with it.

On the one hand, Jaskier had resolved that he was finally done with the witcher. Years of what he thought had been unspoken understanding between them shattered on that mountain. Jaskier thought Geralt and himself were slowly working towards… something more. Something Jaskier dared to dream of in the quiet, intimate moments between them. He thought there had been a spark in the long looks and late nights they shared. Both of them were just too chicken shit to actually say it. Apparently not, Jaskier thought bitterly.

But on the other hand…

Jaskier shook his head free of those thoughts. He squared his shoulders, bolstering himself. He had made his decision, he was going to go through with it. He was going to be rid of this horrible weight in his chest.  
He grabbed his pack and his lute, everything he owned, and made the slow trek to Yennefer's cottage on the outskirts of town.

"Alright Yennefer, let's do thi-" Jaskier froze on the doorway, hand still wrapped around the door knob. His eyes went wide, not truly believing what he was seeing.

Standing next to Yennefer in the middle of the cottage was a sheepish-looking Geralt of Rivia.


	2. Yennefer and Roach are the only ones with Braincells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shift in POV from Jaskier to Geralt, and what he's been up to since he pushed away his one friend and constant (spoiler: he's depressed)

Geralt was miserable. He had been taking three times as many contracts he usually does in the few months after the mountain. It was all he could do to keep his mind off what had happened, what he had said, what he had done. The only thing he could focus his mind on other than that was killing monsters. He thought throwing himself into work with no time to rest between would clear his mind. But it wasn't working. Every night he tossed and turned in his bedroll, the mountain top replaying over and over in his head. The image of Jaskier's hurt face made him sick to his stomach.

It was infiltrating his waking hours too. Everything reminded him of Jaskier. Or reminded him of Yennefer, which then reminded him of Jaskier.

Even the monsters he had tripled his efforts into killing were reminding him of Jaskier, because all the fucking songs he had written were about them. About himself, Geralt thought.

He had crossed a line. He and Jaskier had been travelling for years, and in that time he had thrown the bard no shortage of barbs and insults. Jaskier took them all in stride, never leaving. Geralt realized a long time ago that the bard had called him on his bluff.   
Jaskier had proved he was there to stay, rebuffing every insult with a witty retort. And over the years, the bite left Geralt's words. An understanding between them, that Geralt didn't mean what he said, and he actually did care.

That was the line, and he slashed his sword right through it. The bard was the one who usually used words to affect people, but this time it was Geralt's turn. He had meant to hurt him, meant to be heartless.

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands."

People have tried to make him feel like a monster for a long time. Spitting at him, throwing stones, denying shelter and services. What he had done to Jaskier was the only thing he'd ever done to make him agree with those people.

Geralt was kneeling by a stream in a forest south of Rinde. Which reminded him of Yennefer. Which reminded him of Jaskier. He did his best to push those thoughts out of his head as he washed the remaining gore from his leather armor. Roach stood nearby, munching on the sweet grass by the stream. Sensing her rider's gloom, she nudged Geralt in the side. Geralt looked at Roach with a small smile. He wiped the water from his hands and gave her soft nose a stroke.

Roach shook her mane, currently brushed but unbraided. Once he has gained Roach's trust, Jaskier braided her mane every chance he got. Roach soaked up the extra attention, and Jaskier took great pride in his work.

"She's a lady, Geralt. A lady deserves to look her best!" Jaskier would always say to him whenever he admonished the bard for unnecessarily pampering his horse.

Roach nudged Geralt in the chin with her nose and shook her mane again.

"Sorry Roach, I'd never be able to do it the way he does, the way you like it," he pet Roach's face some more. She snorted and went back to munching grass, clearly disappointed. Geralt stared into the stream.

"I know, it’s not the same without him."

"And who's fault is that?"

In a flash, Geralt was on his feet, sword in hand, whirling around to face whoever had managed to sneak up on him. He kicked himself mentally for letting himself get distracted.

Yennefer stood a few yards away next to a tree. Her arms were crossed, her face pinched in anger.

Geralt rolled his eyes and relaxed his stance, lowering his sword but not releasing it. After all, an angry Yennefer was not something to joke about.

"What do you want, Yennefer? I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

"Believe me, I don't. But here I am,” she gestured to the surrounding forest. “And whose fault is that as well?”

“Hm.” Geralt lowered his sword to the forest floor, convinced that Yennefer wasn’t here to hurt him. “I didn’t call you here.”

Yennefer walked closer to stand in front of Geralt and looked up into his eyes.

“No you didn’t. Want to take any guesses why I’m here exactly?” Geralt hummed again, annoyed. He started to move past her.

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Yennefer. Tell me what you want or-”

“Jaskier came to me.”

Geralt froze and stared at Yennefer with shock. She had a smug look, proud to be able to get such a reaction out of the Witcher.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Geralt was so shaken from what Yennefer had just said that he didn’t even see her swing coming. Her fist connected right with his jaw with a force that surprised him. Geralt even stumbled back a step, hand flying to where Yennefer had hit him. He looked back at Yennefer with confusion, anger, surprise. But mostly confusion.

Yennefer composed herself once more, standing primly as she gently rubbed her knuckles and checked her nails. “There, that’s out of the way. Now, you are coming with me. The sooner you fix this latest mess you’ve left behind I can be rid of you both.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt said, bewildered.

Yennefer cocked her head slightly. “Do you really not know? I thought you would have at least kept an eye on your bard, even from a distance.”

Geralt’s pulse quickened at that. Had something happened to Jaskier? Had he gotten hurt while he wasn’t there to protect him?

“He’s not my bard,” Geralt said instead. Yennefer scoffed at that.

“Except he absolutely is. Gods, I should hit you again just for that,” Yennefer said, and Geralt scowled.

“What’s wrong with Jaskier?”

“You’re what’s wrong with him!” Geralt couldn’t help but flinch at that. “He came to me, begging me for help. He came to me in pieces, because you left him like that!” Yennefer shouted.

Geralt hung his head and stared at the ground, unable to meet Yennefer’s eye. Shame washed over him.

“Normally, I wouldn’t give two shits about whether the bard had gotten his feelings hurt,” Yennefer continued. “But he was manic. I thought he was going to get himself hurt, or worse, if I didn’t help him. So I’m here. The last place I want to be. So you can fix your mess.”

“He asked you to find me?” Geralt asked.

“The opposite. He asked me to erase his memories of you.”

His heart sank and bile rose in his throat.

“I know what I said was… uncalled for, but- can you even erase a single memory so selectively like that?”

Yennefer threw her hands up in frustration. “Were you not listening?! He doesn’t want to forget what you said to him on the mountain, he wants to forget you.”

Geralt felt as if he had been stabbed straight through the heart. He felt the urge to run, but his feet had turned to lead. His palms itched uncomfortably. His face felt burning hot but ice ran down his spine. It took everything for him not to cry right there in front of Yennefer.

“D-did you?” Geralt asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Did I what?”

“Make him- forget.” He braced himself for her answer. He didn’t know if he could take the news, but he had to know.

Yennefer huffed. “There’s no such spell. I can make someone forget a recent block of time, but you can’t cut out all traces of a person in someone’s memory.”

Geralt let out a shaky breath. So the bard still remembered him. And he still remembered the last thing Geralt had said to him. Geralt was confused again.

“So, you said you would help him, but the magic doesn’t exist?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. She was done with the Witcher’s obtuseness. “I lied to him, obviously. I told him I would ease his pain, I never said I would get rid of his memory. Hence,” she gestured to Geralt standing in front of her. “Me finding you.”

Geralt just stared at her. She still hadn’t said what she needed him for.

Yennefer saw his confusion and was fed up. “For the love of- you are going to come with me and apologize to Jaskier so I can get both of you off my hands! Get it?!”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. He crossed his arms in a look of defiance, but it was all an act. He didn’t want to go with Yennefer not because he didn’t care, but because the best thing for the bard really was to forget about him.

“He’s better off without me.”

“But he isn’t! You haven’t seen him, Geralt!” Yennefer huffed and stomped a few feet away. She couldn’t believe she was getting caught in the middle of this. Her mind flashed back to her decades at court, cleaning up the messes of stupid kings and lords.

“Is- it’s that bad?” Yennefer heard behind her. She looked back to see Geralt slumped on a log by the stream, a weight seemingly pressing down on his shoulders. His voice sounded pressed. So completely different from his usual gruff tone. A glimpse of what was really in his heart. Yennefer couldn't bring herself to feel sorry. She huffed. 

“How would you be if someone you loved blamed you for everything wrong in their life?! Yes, it’s that bad!” The frustration was finally taking the better of her. She watched Geralt wince at her cutting words. “YOU broke him, and you are both miserable, and it’s nobody’s fault but your own. And only because you are so damn scared of what will happen if you let anyone in! I took you for an idiot , Geralt of Rivia, but I never thought you to be a monster. But if this is how you’re going to behave...” Geralt’s head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief at Yennefer’s harsh tongue. Despite himself, the fearsome, mighty witcher was fighting back tears, and Yennefer felt a small part of her mind cheer in victory.

“You’re so eager to separate yourself from humans, claiming you aren’t one of them every chance you get. But for someone who isn’t human, you sure can be as cruel as one.”  
She turned away from Geralt, waiting for her words to sink into his thick skull. She threw one last death glare towards the hunched figure by the stream. Geralt, usually so strong and unfeeling, had been cut down from his high horse. He looked so small sitting there. Yennefer began preparing her portal. 

“I am only here because I felt for Jaskier, because I know how it feels to have your heart broken by you. But this is your problem, Geralt, and only you can fix it. Or leave it shattered behind you.”

She stepped through her portal, subtly dropping a scrap of parchment behind her. She appeared in her cottage, everything just as she left it. She flicked her hand towards the hearth and the fire flared, boiling the water in the kettle. She made herself a cup of tea and settled into her chair. She smiled to herself a little smugly and glanced towards the door.

All she had to do now was wait.

\----

Witcher’s don’t cry. And neither does Geralt. He doesn’t cry. And yet here he was. He did his best to will the tears forming in his eyes away, but they fell without any consideration to his demands. Just as stubborn as he was. Yennefer’s words rang out in his head over and over, no matter how many times he pushed them away.

“How would you be if someone you loved blamed you for everything wrong in their life?!”

“... I know what it’s like to have your heart broken by you.”

Geralt grunted in frustration and held his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. “Loved?” the Witcher thought. Did the bard love him, like Yennefer had said? Surely she couldn’t have meant it the way he was thinking. No one loves witchers. Even   
Yennefer had to be put under a spell to even care for him(which is all his fault; which he had blamed Jaskier for) she didn’t love him. But Jaskier was in so much pain that he wanted to rid himself of Geralt entirely. He sat there on his log by the stream, brooding and definitely-not-crying for what felt like forever, until he felt a hard push into his shoulder. Geralt looked up to see Roach looking slightly concerned for her master, but mostly annoyed that he wasn’t paying any attention to her.

Geralt stroked Roach’s soft nose as she snuffled at his face. He leaned against her.

“I really fucked up this time, huh Roach?” He looked into the forest where Yennefer had disappeared through her portal and another stab of misery lodged in his heart. “And there goes my one chance to make it right again.” There was no way of finding Jaskier without Yennefer. He could be anywhere across the continent, and the sorceress had never mentioned where she had teleported from. In the past when he was (definitely not) looking for Jaskier, he would follow the tales of the eccentric bard from town to town, listening for the telltale drunken renditions of his songs in taverns he’d left an impression on (as well as the ranting threats from various jealous husbands, wives, lords, and fathers). The witcher would find his bard eventually.

But ever since the damn mountain, since Geralt had made a fucking fool of himself, he hadn’t heard a peep of Jaskier across his travels. Geralt kicked himself, thinking back to all the times in the past few months that he entered a new town looking for work. Every time he walked into some seedy tavern or inn, his ears would perk up, listening for any hint of his bard. He thought about the eventual feeling of his heart dropping as he was met with silence each time.

“I miss him,” he said aloud, sort of to Roach, sort of to himself. “I’m such an idiot.” Roach just snorted at that and walked away from her witcher, looking for more sweet shoots of grass to munch on.

“He’s better off without me,” Geralt said, trying to convince himself. “He was only going to get killed travelling with me, it’s better this way, Roach.” His chest felt hollow as he blatantly lied to himself. “There’s no way to find him now, Destiny has blessed us just this once and we can move on.” It all felt wrong, he knew it wasn’t the truth. But he had just watched his last chance portal away.

Geralt looked over to Roach, who was now standing where Yennefer had disappeared, and was sniffing the ground. He slowly stood up and rubbed at his face, quickly trying to get rid of any evidence of his moment of weakness. “If Vesemir could see me now,” he thought. “He’d be mortified.”

“Roach, come on. We’re leaving.” He bent to gather his pack and his cloak, slinging his swords over his shoulder. Straightening, he saw that Roach had not moved from her spot, still sniffing the ground. His head tilted in surprise.

“Roach.” He clicked his tongue a few times, and Roach’s ears swiveled in his direction, but she still didn’t move. Geralt’s brow furrowed. Was his own horse ignoring him now? He strode over to take her reigns. Her head rose as he approached and she looked at him, then back to the spot of ground she had been sniffing.

“Come on, are you mad at me too? I didn’t even do anything.” He gathered her reigns in his fist and began to lead her away, but she didn’t budge. She pawed at the ground with her front hoof. Geralt was getting annoyed now.

“Roach. She’s gone, let’s go! You didn’t even like her anyway.” “You liked Jaskier though.”

Roach nudged him with her head, hitting him square in the chest a lot harder than he expected. Then brought her snout back to the ground.

Geralt looked at the patch of grass his horse was so invested in. His pulse jumped when he saw a strip of paper with a small piece of blue wax. He picked it up to examine it closer.

It was a wax seal from a letter. He recognized the crest imprinted in the hardened wax. It was from the noble house of Brugge. His heart rose to his throat. Yennefer's scent still lingered on the seal. Had she dropped this? Had she left this for him, one final olive branch? Brugge was only a few days ride from the edge of the forest. He looked back at Roach, who was giving him a look too knowing for a horse. She nudged him in the shoulder once more, and shook her mane again. Geralt stroked her neck and swung himself up into the saddle, urging Roach to walk.

“Let’s go find our bard, Roach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Geralt knows where to find Jaskier, can he get over his emotional walls to apologize to the bard? Will these two just admit their love to one another already?


	3. The Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier meet for the first time since the mountain. It's tense. There's crying. And yelling. (And confessions????)

Jaskier stood frozen in the doorway for what felt like an eternity. His eyes were fixed on Geralt as though if he looked away for even a second, he would disappear from the room. He wanted to scream, he wanted to run up to Geralt and embrace him. Or slap him. But all he did was stand there.

“Yennefer?” Jaskier finally spoke, his voice high and tight. “Wh-what is he doing here?”

Yennefer walked over to Jaskier in the doorway and took him by the shoulders. She guided him so that they traded places, and she was now in the doorway.

“The two of you have a lot to talk about. And he has a lot to say, for once,” Yennefer said, nodding her head to indicate to Geralt over Jaskier’s shoulder. “I have a lot to do in town, so I won’t be back for an hour or so.” She gathered her cloak from the hook by the door and pulled it over her shoulders. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

Before Jaskier could open his mouth to protest, the door was slammed in his face. He stared at the wood, avoiding turning around. The door wasn’t locked, he could just leave. He could leave, never come back. “See how he likes it,” a voice in the back of his head whispered.

“Jaskier.” The bard closed his eyes to prevent the tears forming in his eyes from falling. His fists clenched at his sides. He slowly, painstakingly turned and faced the man in the room.

He looked… the same, really. He wasn’t wearing his leather armor, but he had the same white hair pulled back, the same piercing yellow eyes. There were no new scars on his face to accompany the small “v” above his eyebrow. Geralt was standing with his arms crossed across his broad chest.

The look on his face was different though. Instead of his usual “leave-me-alone” glare, his gaze was softer. He looked concerned, worry knitting his eyebrows. Jaskier refused to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the floor. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t. His face was getting hot with shame and embarrassment. He wasn’t going to cry, not in front of Geralt. We don’t cry over stupid witchers, get it together Jaskier.

But hot tears ran down his cheeks anyway as he stared into the floorboards. He ducked his chin to his chest in a feeble attempt to hide his face from Geralt.

Geralt watched fat teardrops hit the wooden floor and he felt his throat close. He cautiously walked towards the bard. He looked over Jaskier. He was thinner, he was paler, and he tensed up as Geralt approached. It made Geralt feel sick to his stomach. Jaskier crossed his arms in front of his chest, half hugging himself for comfort, half guarding himself from Geralt.

“Jaskier,” Geralt put a gentle hand on the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier couldn't help but flinch back. He wasn't ready for this. A piece of Geralt died when he felt Jaskier flinch under his touch. Jaskier, who was the only person to never be frightened by the big scary witcher. Geralt opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He couldn’t think of what to say. He searched for any small amount of comfort he could offer the crying man in front of him. This isn’t the first time they had reunited after a long time apart. But this was the first time Geralt had actively chased him away.

“It’s- it’s good to see you,” he finally settled on. His small feeling of triumph at figuring out what to say fell away as Jaskier finally looked back into his gaze, his blue eyes (gods Geralt had missed those eyes) glaring at him with a mix of incredulity and rage. He scoffed and pushed Geralt’s hand off his shoulder.

“‘It’s good to see you’? Unbelievable,” Jaskier spat out, and moved past Geralt to stand by the small fire in the hearth. He needed to distance himself from Geralt. “It’s been months since we last spoke, since you blamed me for all your troubles, since you left me to get down that fucking mountain by myself, and all you have to say is ‘it’s good to see you’?!”

Anger rolled off his tongue and radiated from Jaskier’s body, a tremble shaking his whole body, and now it was Geralt who couldn’t look the other man in the eye. He stared out the window, brows furrowed, mouth a pressed line.

“I’m apologizing.”

Jaskier laughed bitterly at that. “That’s what you think an apology is? Showing up out of nowhere after months and just striking up conversation? Tell me, Geralt, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

“For- for what I said,” Geralt responded. “On the mountain.”

“Oh, you mean to say that you’ve decided to apologize to the one friend you’ve ever had for unfairly blaming them for everything wrong in your life? Things that they had nothing to do with? Well, thank you very much for that.” Jaskier responded sarcastically.   
Neither of them spoke for a tense moment. “Well?” Jaskier asked.

“Well what?” Geralt was furiously racking his brain to figure out how in the hell he was supposed to do this. He had never learned, and the only person who ever bothered to try and teach was standing right in front of him, shaking with rage.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jaskier muttered. “Do you really want me to walk you through your own apology? And you say you don’t need me.”

“Yennefer told me what you came to her for,” said Geralt, changing the subject and still not looking at Jaskier. “You know that kind of magic doesn’t exist, right?”

“I had to try, nothing else was working.” Jaskier shot back. “The one time I actually want you out of my life, and I couldn’t get you out of my fucking head.

“Anyway, I’m trying to do you one last favor, even though you don’t deserve it,” Jaskier continued. “Since you want me out of your life so bad, the best I can do is forget you ever existed.”

“I never said that!” Geralt said, looking at Jaskier now.

“You didn’t have to! There are more ways to say something than just words. Leaving me behind, insulting me.” Tears were flowing freely again, Jaskier crying again in earnest. “I always pushed it aside, because I thought I knew who you were under all that. But I don’t think I know you at all.”

“You don’t mean that.” Geralt almost whispered.

“You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t mean anymore!” Jaskier was shouting now, gesturing wildly, like he always does when he gets particularly riled up. “I would have forgiven you at any point on the way down the mountain, and even the weeks after that, without so much as an apology from you! And I would have continued to follow you to the ends of the earth. But that didn’t happen so” he gestured around the room. “Here we are.”

“I never asked you to!” Geralt shouts back. His heart was beating faster, and heat was rising up his neck and face. He was on the defensive as a reflex, his hackles rising. He was panicking. This was going all wrong, he was supposed to be making up with the bard. “Not once since we’ve met have I asked you to follow me anywhere, and yet you still did! If you truly think that I wanted you gone, why run after me all these years?!” I’m fucking this up.

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” Jaskier screamed. The tense silence returned, Gerallt shocked at the confession and Jaskier shocked he actually said it out loud.

Jaskier sucked in a shuddering breath. “I love you,” he repeated, a whisper this time. “Despite all the times you left me behind, despite the harsh insults, despite pushing me away, I love you, Geralt of Rivia. I love what I thought was the real you, the man who gave me his cloak when I was cold and found herbs for me when I was sick, the man who treated my injuries while admonishing me for getting hurt at the same time, the man who let me wash his hair even though he protested it.”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, frozen in place. His heart was frantically trying to pull him towards Jaskier, to pull his bard into a tight embrace, to say it back. But his fear had him nailed to the ground even as Jaskier moved past him to the door of the cottage.

“I loved you despite knowing you would never love me back,” Jaskier said as he had his hand on the door knob. “Not because witchers can’t love, but because you couldn’t love me. Because the one thing you are afraid of is letting anyone close enough to hurt you.” Jaskier’s voice was soft, calmer now. The fight had left him. Jaskier looked at the witcher, his witcher, who had not turned from his spot in the middle of the room to face him.

“I’ve loved you for a long time now. And I still love you now, even though you hurt me when I let you close enough to do so.” More silence passed between them, Jaskier staring at Geralt’s back, Geralt staring at the spot by the hearth where Jaskier had just been, still unable to move. Jaskier let out a small sigh.

“Goodbye, Geralt.” Jaskier said softly as he opened the cottage door. This time he meant it. This time it should be final. He had given his truth, given his heart, and it was over.   
He was leaving. Everything in Geralt was screaming at him the fact that Jaskier was leaving. Jaskier was leaving and Geralt couldn’t let him leave.

“Don’t go!” Jaskier heard as a strong hand gripped around his bicep. Firm, but not enough to be painful. The grip on his arm turned him around to Geralt so they were standing closely, face to face. Geralt’s expression of sheer panic. “Don’t go, Jaskier. Please.” Geralt’s voice sounded tight, strained.

“Why?!” Jaskier sobbed, sharp heartbreak bubbling up in his chest again. He hated that it was so hard. He hated how badly it still hurt to look Geralt in the eye. He hated that he still felt foolish hope lingering in the back of his mind. “Why are you doing this, Geralt? After all the times you left me, and the one time I decide that it’s my turn, you stop me?!” Jaskier hit Geralt in the chest with his fists, not enough to hurt him, but to emphasize his point. He hung his head, screwing his eyes shut. “Why?”

“Because I love you too.” Jaskier looked back up at Geralt’s face, not believing his ears. Geralt pulled them closer together. He looked into the witcher’s golden yellow eyes, and he was met with an intense and earnest stare.

Geralt took Jaskier's hands, still resting on his chest, and clasped them in his own, holding them close. “You’re right, Jaskier. About everything. I am scared.” His voice broke, and Jaskier couldn’t believe it. He also couldn’t believe that Geralt was openly weeping in front of him.

“I love you, and I never admitted it, not even to myself, because that would mean that I could lose you and it would hurt me. But I’m an idiot.” Geralt’s voice was quicker, almost frantic to get out everything he never could say before. “I’m an idiot and I lost you anyway and it was my fault and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The weight, the force of all his emotions he had stamped down over the years coming back up was too much for Geralt. He fell to his knees in front of Jaskier, still clutching the bard’s hands. His body heaved in a quiet sob. “I didn’t mean it. Not just what I said on the mountain. All of it. About your company, about your singing, about your importance. I didn’t mean it and I said it anyway, because how I really feel terrifies me.” Geralt looked up into Jaskier’s stunned face. “I’m sorry. You have every right to but please,” Geralt pleaded. “Don’t go.” His grip on Jaskier’s hands loosened and fell away. He kneeled on the floor, on his hands and knees in front of the man he loved, the man he had pushed away, head fallen between his hunched shoulders.

It was Jaskier’s turn to be frozen where he stood. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the mighty witcher, the man he had seen slay hundreds of beasts without so much as breaking a sweat, was felled before him. His heart swelled so much Jaskier felt it in his throat. His mind was a mess of a thousand contradictions.

He slowly crouched down to sit in front of Geralt. He swallowed thickly, summoning courage. The same courage he had used to lay his heart bare and bleeding in front of his love. He reached out to the witcher, his witcher, and tucked the loose curtain of white hair hiding Geralt’s face behind his ear, then stroked his cheek gently with the pad of his thumb. He whispered “you like my singing?” A quiet voice, slightly teasing.

The two men caught each other’s gaze, matching tear tracks down both faces. Geralt looked at Jaskier with a mix of hesitation and hope. Jaskier met it with a sweet smile. And a smile was all it took.

In a flash of movement, Geralt surged forward and pulled Jaskier into a tight hug, both of them still kneeling on the floor. He embraced his bard, one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders. Jaskier, mercifully, reciprocated. Geralt buried his face into the crook of jaskier’s shoulder, breathing in the bard’s scent. Gods, he had missed the way Jaskier smelled. Comfortable, calming. Home.

They stayed that way on the floor of Yennefer’s cottage for a long time before Jaskier pulled away slightly, just enough to be able to look Geralt in the eye. He took the witcher’s face in his hands and brought their faces closer together, searching Geralt’s eyes for acceptance or rejection. He had come this far, the least he could do now was try to take the last step too. And Geralt seemed to agree. He moved the rest of the way, pressing their lips together in a sweet, blissful kiss. Finally allowing himself to let go. 

“Oh.” Jaskier thought as his eyes fluttered closed. He could write whole ballads about this feeling. His fingers were tingling, he noted absently. It was warm and soft and so much better than anything he could have ever imagined. As Geralt tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Jaskier’s heart sang and his mind raced with lyrics about this moment. If he could manage to get even a hint of this feeling into his song he would surely win everyone over. Pure bliss, happiness. A weight being lifted off his chest. Finally, after years and years of longing.

Geralt felt drunk on the feeling of his Jaskier against his lips and their bodies pressed together and the smell of the bard all around him. He glided a hand to the back of Jaskier’s neck and felt his quick, fleeting, human pulse as he did so. He wished for this moment to last forever. 

Jaskier, not being able to help himself, let out a tiny moan at the feeling of Geralt’s hands moving along his neck and waist. Geralt took that opportunity to open the kiss. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat and heat rolled down his spine as he felt Geralt’s tongue press against his. He happily reciprocated. Forgiveness can take on many shapes.

They kissed passionately like that for as long as Jaskier could. Forever had it not been for human lungs. He pulled away an inch to catch his breath, putting his hand against Geralt’s chest as he moved forward to chase his lips. He mourned the loss with a small disappointed “hmm” missing the feeling of his bard.

“Easy there, witcher,” Jaskier laughed softly. “Some of us have to breathe you know.” Geralt just smiled fondly at him and let out another small “hmm” (expressing content this time) before nuzzling his head into Jaskiers neck again. Gods that smell, he was sure now he could never quit his addiction to it. He placed a faint kiss on Jaskiers throat. Jaskier giggled at the tickling feeling of the witcher’s scruff against his neck.

“Well that didn’t take long,” Yennefer said from the doorway. The two men startled, and looked up from the floor to the smug sorceress silhouetted by daylight. Jaskier, cleared his throat, cheeks flushing. He wasn’t usually embarrassed when it came to being found in compromising positions like this, but this was different. Way more intimate and private to be caught in the act. More real.

Jaskier slowly, reluctantly, untangled himself from Geralt and stood up, brushing off his pants. “Yes, well, I’ve never been one to hold a grudge.” He heard Geralt snort at his comment, knowing from their years together that that was a blatant lie. Jaskier reached down, offering his hand to Geralt to help him up, which Geralt took silently. When he stood, Geralt didn’t release Jaskier’s hand.

“As glad as I am that you two were able to come to your senses,” Yennefer said, “I’ve had just about enough of the both of you.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arms, pointing them out of her cottage.

As Geralt walked past her, Jaskier right behind him, fingers still entangled, he paused to regard Yennefer. She raised a challenging eyebrow to him.

“Thank you,” was all he said. She just nodded. He stepped out of the cottage.

Jaskier pulled on Geralt’s hand, stopping him. Geralt looked back at his bard, confused. Jaskier let go of his hand, and Geralt’s skin prickled at the loss of contact. The bard gave him a reassuring smile.

“Just give me a moment? I just want to talk to Yennefer, won’t take long.”

Geralt felt nervous leaving the two of them together, and was loathe to part with his bard after he just got him back. But he trusted Jaskier. He gave him a small smile and walked around the side of the cottage.

“Yes, Jaskier?” Yennefer asked in an amused tone.

“I just, I-” Jaskier stammered. He then gave the sorceress a tight hug. “Thank you.” Yennefer was stunned for a second, but then returned the hug, smiling.

Jaskier released Yennefer and pressed his coin purse into her palm. "For your help." Yennefer just shook her head and handed it back.

"First round is on me."

Jaskier flashed her a bright grin. “Until Destiny pulls us together once more, fair sorceress.” He gave a deep bow and a wink, causing Yennefer to laugh.

“Go after your witcher, bard.” And he did.  
\----

“Roach! My love, oh how I’ve missed you!” Jaskier exclaimed as Geralt came up to him, leading the horse by the reigns. The bard dramatically threw his arms around the mare’s sturdy neck in a hug. He pet her mane and Geralt watched his steed lean into his bard’s touch.

“You poor sweet thing! Your gorgeous mane! It’s practically a bramble bush,” Jaskier lamented, carding his fingers through her hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I just brushed it,” Geralt quipped back, no bite or bark behind his words.

“And no styling whatsoever! Roach is a lady, and deserves the finer things in life.” He leaned closer to Roach’s face. “Don’t worry, Roach. I’m here now,” Jaskier whispered loudly into the horse’s ear. “I’ll do your mane just how you like it. Flowers and all.”

Geralt just smiled and hauled himself onto Roach’s saddle. Jaskier added his pack to Roach’s saddle bags and looked up to Geralt, waiting for the witcher to lead them to wherever their next adventure lay.

“So, where to now?”

Geralt extended a hand down to help Jaskier up onto the saddle. “I was thinking about the coast.” Jaskier smiled broadly and took Geralt’s hand eagerly. He swung onto the saddle behind Geralt, winding his arms around Geralt’s waist to hold on as the witcher told Roach to walk. Jaskier rested his chin on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I think the coast sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it! The bastards did it! Now Yennefer can finally get some godsdamned piece around here. Stick around for a thrilling epilogue.


	4. Epilogue (Fangs and Claws)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful scene after all that turmoil. Nothing but sweet fluff ahead. Y'all earned it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually made up the constellation myth in this chapter. It's kind of like the Beauty and The Beast, but not at all. I'm a sucker for mythology parallels in love stories.

The night sky was clear, a blanket of stars shining down and reflecting on the calm ocean waters. Jaskier and Geralt lay next to each other on a blanket they had spread out on the sandy shore. Both of them were on their backs, looking up at the sky. Jaskier was nestled between Geralt’s chest and arm, using the witcher’s bicep as a pillow. Not that Geralt minded in the slightest- anything to have his bard close. Jaskier was pointing at various constellations, rattling off their names and explaining their myths to Geralt.   
Geralt had heard them all before but he listened anyway. Nobody told stories better than Jaskier.

The cool breeze brought the smell of saltwater from the ocean and was mixed with the smoke from their crackling fire. Geralt’s eyes closed in contentment, breathing deep, taking it all in.

“You haven’t fallen asleep on me, have you Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a hushed voice, turning his head to look at his lover’s peaceful expression. Geralt cracked one eye open to look back at Jaskier.

“Not at all. Just picturing your stories in my head.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

Geralt thought for a moment, looking at the different constellations, considering each one.

“There’s one you missed,” he finally said, pointing to the western sky, connecting the stars with his finger. Jaskier followed his gaze and regarded the small grouping of stars.

“I don’t know that one.”

“It’s called ‘Fang and Claw’, if memory serves.”

Jaskier shifted to lay on his side and resettled into the crook of Geralt’s arm, cuddling closer to him.

“Tell it to me?”

Geralt let out a low hum. He wasn’t one for telling tales, but it was Jaskier, and he was looking at him with those wide blue eyes that left Geralt entranced. He would do anything Jaskier asked.

“It’s been decades since I heard the story, but I will do my best.” He took another deep breath, taking in once again the sea and the fire and his bard.

“Long ago, there was a monster. It had fangs and claws and lived deep in the forest. Nobody knew where it had come from, but it was a monster so they told their children to stay away from the forest lest they get eaten by the beast.

“The beast would always appear at the edge between the forest and the town with its fangs and its claws. The townspeople always threw rocks at it and it would run away and the town would be safe. But one day a young man, having foolishly ignored his elder’s warnings, wandered into the woods.

“He came across the beast in the forest. But he wasn’t scared. The beast didn’t have fangs and claws. It was just a man. The monster said ‘why aren’t you scared?’ and the man said ‘why would I be? You don’t have any fangs or claws.’ the beast responded ‘I do have fangs. I do have claws. See, they’re right here.’ The man laughed. ‘Those are just regular teeth and nails, no different from me!’ The beast looked down, his claws were still there. He felt his mouth, his fangs were still there. But the beast let the man stay with it in the woods, and they fell in love. One day, the man said to the beast ‘Come to town with me’ and the beast refused at first. ‘They still see my fangs, they still see my claws. They will throw rocks at me. And then they will throw rocks at you.’

The man assured the beast that everything would be alright. ‘They just don’t know that you have regular teeth and nails like me, but I’ll help them see.’ The beast loved the man and trusted him, so he went to the edge of town with his lover. When they entered the town, no one threw rocks at the beast as the couple walked hand-in-hand. The beast stopped a woman in the street. ‘Why aren’t you throwing rocks?’ The woman was confused. ‘We only throw rocks at the beast with the claws and the fangs’ she said, and walked away. The beast looked down at his hands. To his surprise his claws were regular nails. He felt his mouth. His fangs were just regular teeth. He turned to his lover. His lover smiled and said ‘the only person I had to make see was you.’”

Jaskier was entranced by Geralt’s story. He couldn’t believe that he had never heard that myth before; tales of love and want were usually his forte. He listened intently to his lover, feeling the rumble of Geralt’s voice as his head was pressed against the witcher’s chest. Geralt rarely spoke this much, and it was so easy to get lost in his words when he did.

“That’s beautiful, Geralt,” Jaskier said when Geralt finished the story. He reached across Geralt’s torso and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. They lay there in silence for a few moments. Jaskier pulled Geralt’s hand closer, holding it aloft and turning it as if to inspect it.

“I don’t see any claws,” he said, and propped himself up on his elbow to lean over Geralt, the bard’s face hovering over the witcher’s. He pressed a gentle kiss to Geralt’s knuckles then leaned down to kiss Geralt’s lips. He pulled back just enough to whisper “I don’t feel any fangs, either.”

Geralt reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through Jaskier’s soft chestnut hair.

“I don’t see them either. Not anymore, thanks to you.”

Jaskier smiled, eyes crinkling in a way that made Geralt’s heart melt. He kissed Geralt again, lingering in that moment for an eternity. He broke away, laying back down on their blanket.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he muttered, realizing just how heavy his eyelids felt and how tired his body was.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.” Geralt stayed awake for a little longer, watching the stars and listening as Jaskier’s breath steadied and slowed as he fell asleep in his arms. Finally, sleep came to claim him as well and Geralt finally drifted off, watching their constellation as he did. And for the first time in both their lives they belonged. Beneath the stars, entangled in each other in every way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few! It's done! We laughed, we cried, we cheered. I worked so hard on this, I would love y'all's feedback. I have been enamored with the outpouring of content for this new fandom and I'm so glad to contribute. Again, huge shout out to my beta, the-bard-followed-the-witcher (follow them on tumblr, they reblog great fic recs). 
> 
> Until next time, toss a kudos to your writer!

**Author's Note:**

> Yennefer, you wiley sorceress! How did she even find him? (hint: it's in the next chapter)


End file.
